Lovers Are Lunatics
by carnifax
Summary: Harvey/Mike. He'd never seen Harvey like this.


**Lovers Are Lunatics**

By carnifax (originally posted to tumblr)  
>Based on a photoset tumblr user captain-cooper made<br>_Suits_  
>HarveyMike  
>Rated T<br>Romance | General  
><em>He'd never seen Harvey like this.<em>

* * *

><p>Harvey had been in a bad mood all day. Mike noticed it first this morning, when he had tried to sneak a kiss in just as they were about to get off the elevator. They had agreed on no PDA at the office, but usually a small kiss when they were alone wasn't a big deal. This morning, though, as soon as Mike leaned over, Harvey jolted away, his entire body stiffening, and he shot Mike a look. The elevator doors opened a second later; Harvey had stalked off without a word.<p>

Then there was the disastrous meeting about their current case, which started in a harsh way and ended ten minutes later with the client — a stoic, middle-aged man — nearly in tears.

Even small things were bothering Harvey. Ray had the car's air conditioning too high. Donna forgot to add extra cream to his coffee. Mike's tie was crooked. Louis was lingering in the associate's bullpen too long. Someone's lunch smelled like tuna. Mike should've used yellow highlighter, not orange.

Mike had worked for Harvey for a little over three years now, and had been in a relationship with him for almost two. He knew the man, knew what he liked and disliked, knew his favorite band and the way his body felt, knew what he looked like when asleep or sick or upset, knew him at his best and sweetest, and at his worst and cruelest. But he'd never seen Harvey like _this_.

Luckily, Mike was an optimist, and knew from experience that a hot bath together and some quiet time at home could heal anything. So at the end of the day, when Harvey came by his desk and told him that they were going to dinner — just the two of them — Mike tried to suggest otherwise. Well, he _started_ to, at least until the moment Harvey's face took on that hardened edge again. Wincing, Mike instantly agreed, and hoped that no further disasters would occur.

Mike wasn't surprised, though, when they did.

Now seated at a private table in a mood-lit room at the back of some first-rate restaurant that Rachel would've killed to try, Harvey had already yelled at their server twice about entirely innocuous things. The most recent mistake had somehow involved the wine, or maybe the wine glasses — Mike didn't know. He had spent the entire argument staring at the tablecloth, turning pink with humiliation, until the woman grabbed the bottle away and left them.

"I didn't notice anything was wrong," Mike tried, still staring at the tablecloth.

Harvey scoffed and crossed his arms on the table. "Well, _you_ wouldn't, would you."

Mike swallowed. He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to take off his tie and pin Harvey to the bed and just lay there in silence and forget that this entire day had ever happened.

"Have you decided what you're ordering?" Harvey asked, picking at the edge of his own, unopened menu. He pulled a fraying string off the tablecloth and looked up. "Mike?"

"No." Mike shook his head and tried to focus on the words. It didn't help that the entire thing was in French. "Not yet."

"Well just pick something."

"Harvey, I don't know what anything _is_. It's in _French_."

Harvey let out an irritated sigh and flicked Mike's menu closed, rolling his eyes. "You know, for someone with a perfect memory, you're kind of useless. I'll just order for you."

That was the last straw. "_No_, you know what? No need." Mike finally looked at Harvey. He felt hot with rage; his clenched fists were shaking. "You can eat by yourself, Harvey. I'm going home."

Harvey stared at him. "_What_?"

"You fucking heard me." Mike shoved away from the table, grabbing his satchel from beneath his chair. "I'm going home — to _my_ place. Call me once you're done being an asshole." He looked at Harvey a second longer, then turned on his heel. "_Jesus_."

But Mike hadn't counted on Harvey following him out of there. Mike was just about to wave down a taxi when a strong hand grabbed him by the arm and spun him around.

"What's _wrong_ with you?"

"What's wr—" Mike barked out a wry laugh. "What's wrong with _me_? Harvey, _I'm_ not the one who's been throwing temper tantrums all day!"

Harvey's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "_Temper tantrums_?"

"Yes! You have bad days, I get that! But this is _ridiculous_! What is your _problem_?" Mike threw out his arms wide in frustration. "Are you having issues with something that I should know about? Did someone piss you off? Is it the case? Is it _me_? Because I've only been around someone _this_ volatile _once_ in my entire life, and that was right before she _dumped_ me!"

Harvey's expression changed then, tightened, into something unreadable — and that look stopped Mike dead in his tracks.

"Oh fuck," Mike breathed, taking a step back. He felt like his chest was collapsing. "You were going to break up with me tonight, weren't you." It wasn't a question. "You— You _fucking_—"

"_Mike_," Harvey said, much gentler than before.

"Don't '_Mike_' me." He looked anywhere but at Harvey, gasping in a breath. He was so angry, with himself more than anyone. He should've seen this coming. The phone calls. The side conversations with Donna. The glances when Harvey thought Mike couldn't see him. The suspicious trips to "René's." It all made so much sense now.

"You don't want to be with me," Mike realized, voice quiet. All at once, he felt so exhausted, so disillusioned. It had all been for nothing. He should've known that someone like Harvey Specter would never last with a kid like him. "You don't want to be with me anymore."

"Mike, stop," Harvey sighed, reaching out for him again. Mike didn't have the energy to protest this time. "_Listen_ to me. You're getting the wrong idea."

Mike shook his head.

"Mike, look at me." Harvey's hand drifted from Mike's shoulder to Mike's face, his thumb sweeping lightly over his cheekbone. "_Look_ at me."

Mike did, clenching his jaw. There were tears in his eyes, treacherous, pathetic tears that he was fighting against, but he knew Harvey could see them.

"You're wrong, all right? You couldn't be _more_ wrong." He took a breath, hesitating. When he spoke again, his words were quiet, slow, only for Mike. "I _do_ want to be with you. I know I don't say this often enough, but I mean it —_ I love you_."

Mike swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry about today," Harvey went on, letting go of Mike, but still holding his gaze. "I'm sorry I was an asshole." He stepped one foot back. "And I'm sorry that I'm not perfect." He knelt down in front of Mike. "But mostly, I'm just sorry that _tonight_ wasn't perfect — but that doesn't matter now."

He reached into his pocket, and only then did Mike seem to realize where this was headed. He choked out Harvey's name, stepping nervously back, glancing away for a second. When his eyes landed on Harvey again, Harvey had a small, black wooden box in his palm, outstretched towards Mike.

"I'm in love with you, kid. Of _course_ I want to be with you." Harvey smiled up at him as if he were the only other person in the world, the only person who mattered this much; and then he shrugged, helplessly. "I want to _marry_ you."


End file.
